


ten years waiting (for this moment of fate)

by dullahans



Series: s15 fix it [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Dean Winchester is Jack Kline's Parent, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Recovery, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29437782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dullahans/pseuds/dullahans
Summary: Dean doesn’t know what to say to that, so he leans over to take Cas’s face in his hands, and kisses him softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”“Die, probably,” Cas deadpans, pulling away slightly. When Dean pouts, Cas leans forward again to capture Dean’s lips. Cas says, “Many times, actually.”“Romance of the goddamn ages,” Dean says, biting back a laugh.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jack Kline & Dean Winchester
Series: s15 fix it [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2162340
Comments: 8
Kudos: 108





	ten years waiting (for this moment of fate)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, this was originally supposed to be a quick chapter that I was going to add to the season 15 fix it fic (linked above), but it kinda got away from me, and turned into it's own thing. Then, of course, the fandom with the help of one Chad Lindberg making today (the 14th of February) into deancas' wedding day turned this into something else entirely. So, hey. This is a result of all that. As always, a massive thank you to my best friend Joanna for getting me through writing this.
> 
> You don't have to read the fix it. I guess the sparknotes stuff is that Billie is Death/God, Jack is pretty much a normal kid, Cas is human, and Dean is a mess.
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!
> 
> Oh, and the title is from Vienna Teng's City Hall.

“Dean?”

Dean stirs awake, taking in his surroundings; the lights are too bright, the smells are too clinical, and Cas — Cas is standing over him, eyebrows drawn together in worry. Dean groans and sits up. He’s on the floor in the bunker’s library. He carefully eyes the empty whiskey glass next to him. He’s been meaning to stop, and he’s _trying._ He can go a week if he really wants to, and he does really want to, but anything more than that is a struggle. Deep down, he knows that Sam is probably right and this is a problem.

He blinks up at Cas. His voice is rough when he says, “Mornin’, sunshine.”

“It’s nearly noon,” Cas tells him as he kneels down. The corners of his mouth quirk up in a small smile. He takes the whiskey glass off the floor and places it on the table before he reaches a hand down to help Dean up. Once Dean gets straightened up, Cas says, “I want to head down to the farmers’ market and sell some of our pumpkins.”

“And, I’m guessing, you want me to come with you,” Dean says slowly. Cas just raises a brow that clearly means yes, and it’s the kind of look that Dean knows he has no option to back out of, not that he wants to. If you’d have told him a year ago that his Saturday mornings would involve waking up with a devastating hangover, he would have nodded along because _obviously_. If you’d have told him that they would involve a devastating hangover followed by Cas asking him to accompany him on a routine trip to the farmers’ market, well, he would have laughed and then pined over that thought for ages.

In the bathroom, Dean takes in his appearance. He rubs a hand over his face and tries to bring some color back into his face; his eyes are tinged red and the bags under his eyes are more obvious than they’ve been for a while. Dean groans, running a hand through his hair. _You need to quit,_ he tells himself.

It’s a dull, gray afternoon; there’s storm clouds in the distance, and the air is just crisp enough to warrant a jacket — which, naturally, means that Cas has his trench coat on. It’s not a common sight anymore, but the memories wash through him when he sees Cas load up his truck. The gear and the weaponry is now replaced by two boxes of pumpkins. The wind whips through Cas’s hair when he turns around and he leans against the back of his truck. He tilts his head to the side and smiles when he sees Dean. 

“Haven’t seen this in a while,” Dean says as he stands in between Cas’s legs; he slips his hand inside Cas’s jacket and sneaks it under the flannel which is certainly his. Cas noses at his jaw and Dean leans in to kiss him softly.

Cas hums into the kiss. “I thought it was practical.”

“Sure,” Dean agrees. He loves the stupid trench coat more than he’ll ever admit. Dean kisses Cas again for good measure because that’s a thing he can just do now. 

~

The market is busy by the time they arrive, and Cas circles the gravel makeshift parking lot a few times looking for a place to park. Dean finds some amusement that, of all the things in the world for Cas to be carefully precise about, driving a beat down truck is one of them. He slips the car into a spot in the back corner, and they step out into the crisp air. Dean reaches out to grab one of the containers filled with pumpkins while Cas grabs the other one. 

At the edge of the lot, there’s a circle of tall trees, their leaves turning a burnt orange shade as they fall to the ground. Dean can feel the heaviness settle into his head as he tries to focus on them. The hangovers are worse than they were, which definitely has something to do with age, but there’s also the fact that he’s no longer a character in one of Chuck’s twisted stories, so he’s feeling it. 

Dean can see Cas shooting him considerate looks from the corner of his eyes as they walk into the market. He doesn’t say anything though; instead, he drops his box at the cashier’s table and slips Dean a list of vegetables for him to pick out. Dean walks through the aisles of the market, picking out the squash and eggplant, and things that they can grow, but never seem to get just right. There’s a small free serve coffee machine in the corner, and Dean fills up two cups. 

Cas mumbles a quiet thanks when Dean hands it over. He’s too busy counting through the twenty dollar bill that Maria, the owner of the market, hands over. It’s not until they’re heading back to the truck to load their groceries that Dean can’t wait anymore. He blurts out, “I think I’m going to quit drinking. You know, cold turkey and all.”

Cas is silent for a long time, closing the back of the truck, before he nods. “I think that’s a great idea, Dean. Your liver might be quite thankful for that, as well as Sam, probably.”

“Christ,” Dean snorts. Cas instinctively shoots him a reproachful look, and Dean raises a hand in apology. He shakes his head and makes his way around the passenger side. “You and Sam should have just staged an intervention.”

Once Cas settles into the driver’s seat, he frowns at Dean; the wrinkles on his forehead crease together in trademark worry. He says, “Well, the internet made it very clear that if it wasn’t something you’re open to, my intervening would have led to you feeling more lonely and frustrated, and you were doing so well—”

“Cas, it’s okay,” Dean cuts him off. He doesn’t know whether he should laugh or burst into tears. He leans back against the headrest and closes his eyes. Quietly, he says, “I can do this, right?”

When he opens his eyes again, Cas is staring at him with such gentle fondness that Dean feels a rush of warmth surge through him. Cas smiles. “Dean Winchester, I have no doubt that you can do anything you want to.”

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that, so he leans over to take Cas’s face in his hands, and kisses him softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Die, probably,” Cas deadpans, pulling away slightly. When Dean pouts, Cas leans forward again to capture Dean’s lips. Cas says, “Many times, actually.”

“Romance of the goddamn ages,” Dean says, biting back a laugh. 

~

Lebanon is a town with a population of two hundred and eighteen people, which doesn’t include anyone living in the bunker on the rural road on the outskirts of town. There’s exactly one non denominational chapel that brags about being the geographic center of the contiguous United States, but the actual center is a tiny monument at a nearby park. Nobody actually visits Lebanon, so it’s very easy to know who everybody is, and everybody notices the weirdos living in the abandoned factory on the rural road that isn’t actually a part of the town.

There’s also no jobs in Lebanon, which Dean realizes several job searches in. He also realizes that he actually has no marketable skills and next to no references, and there’s only so far a GED and a give ‘em hell attitude can carry a person. The one garage in town is owned by a man named Rudy Schmidt; he’s a man in his fifties with broad shoulders, neatly trimmed beard, and a vocabulary that extends to a few grunts and an occasional huff. Dean doesn’t know why Rudy decides to offer him the job, but he suspects it has more to do with Baby than himself, but still, he can fix a car and Rudy is more than a generous boss.

“It suits you,” Cas tells him when he catches Dean checking himself out in the bathroom mirror. The _Rudy Schmidt’s Auto Center_ hat on his head is navy blue with white writing, and it looks ridiculous, but Dean knows that Cas is too polite to ever tell him that. “I feel like congratulations are in order and I should say that I’m very proud of you, but I suspect you know that.”

“I do, but you should say it anyways,” Dean says, preening. He likes validation, sue him. “Or, you could show me how proud you are.”

“Is that so?” Cas asks, stepping into his space, and pinning Dean against the counter. His mouth quirks up slightly. Dean opens his mouth to say something, but he’s entirely distracted by where Cas’s fingers pull the strings of his pajama pants loose. His voice is a low drawl when he says, “I am very proud of you.”

He’s had good sex before; great sex, even, but it’s something totally different with Cas. Dean thinks, not for the first time, that no matter how many times he's touched Cas, no matter how many times they’ve kissed or fucked each other, it always feels like the first time all over again. He can map out every inch of Cas’s body like it’s his own, and yet, he’s always discovering new ways to fall in love. It’s so stupidly sappy, so unlike the version of himself that he thought he had to be, that it makes him more than a little dizzy. 

~

Dean stirs awake when he hears the quiet whimper from next to him, and instinctively tightens his arm around Cas. The first few weeks after Cas gave up his grace, they plagued him constantly. The nightmares aren’t as common anymore, but they still flicker in and out. Dean runs an arm down Cas’s side and waits till his breath steadies, and whatever it is tonight disappears into the recesses of his mind. 

Except, Cas lets out another low whine and curls into himself, mumbling something in Enochian. He lets out a soft breath and slowly blinks awake. His voice is low and hoarse from sleep when he says, “Dean.”

“I’m here,” Dean murmurs. He leans forward to kiss the nape of Cas’s neck, and Cas leans back against him. When he doesn’t say anything, but doesn’t fall back asleep either, Dean ventures ahead. “What was it this time?”

There’s a lengthy pause and Dean can feel Cas steady his breathing against him. Eventually, he says, “The Empty.”

Again, then. It’s the most common one. Dean says, “It can’t get you anymore, you know.”

Cas hums in quiet acknowledgment; it’s the obvious, Dean knows that, but he also knows that sometimes you need to be reminded of the obvious. Chuck isn’t writing their lives anymore, The Empty can’t get you, the world is as safe as it’ll ever be — Dean knows that, Cas knows that, but sometimes they just need a reminder.

Dean shifts when he feels Cas turning in his arms. When they’re face to face, Cas blinks up at him. “What about you, then?”

“The usual,” Dean says. It was the Mark tonight, but other nights it’s Hell, and sometimes it’s the numerous bodies that piled up over the years.

He can feel Cas studying him in the dark. “Jack is struggling too.”

“I know,” Dean tells him. He’s heard sounds coming out of Jack’s room more times than he wants to count, and he’s had to pull Jack awake on more than one occasion. Dean scans the room and his eyes settle on the light flickering in from the hallway. “We should get away.” Cas knits his brows and squints. Dean clarifies, “We should go on a vacation. Get out of the bunker, you know? Grab Sam and Eileen — maybe, Claire, if she’s up for that kinda thing.”

“Donna did offer her cabin to us,” Cas suggests. 

Dean laughs. Sure, it’s a two day drive, but they’ve driven longer for things that are decidedly less fun. “Guess we’re going to Minnesota, then.”

~

Dean notices Claire’s car pull up into the driveway of Donna’s cabin, so he walks out to greet her. It’s a brisk evening and his socked feet are cold against the porch. He raises a hand in greeting as soon as she gets out. Claire pulls her backpack out of the back seat and throws it over her shoulder.

“I’m not doing family trust exercises,” Claire tells him immediately. Dean snickers; he has no intention of ever making anyone do trust exercises, of all things, but he knows that Jody probably put the girls up to it at least once. When Claire smirks up at him, all confidence and bravado, Dean just rolls his eyes and pulls her into a hug. Against his chest, Claire says, “What’s this about anyways?”

Dean pulls away and shrugs. “We were getting restless in the bunker.”

“Yeah, I would be too,” Claire says, wrinkling her nose. “You should get an actual house. Cas would like that.”

Dean blinks. “Huh.”

Claire doesn’t say anything else, though. He follows her into the cabin where Eileen, Cas, and Jack are sprawled on the area rug playing Clue and Sam is lying down on Donna's couch, book in hand. It’s Jack who notices her first, rising immediately to hug her. Claire shuffles around the cabin, settling her bag down in a corner, and digging through her belongings for her pajamas.. By the time she finishes changing into them and gets back down, the pizza arrives. Once dinner is over, they all sprawl across the living room. Cas settles on the two seater, throwing an arm casually over Dean’s shoulder. Sam commandeers the other sofa for himself, saving a space for Eileen, while Claire and Jack sit at the foot of it.

“So, who’s picking the movie?” Sam asks, not looking up from his book. Eileen drops down onto Sam’s legs; he lets out a loud groan, moving so that he’s sitting half up and Eileen is half laying down on top of him. Before Dean can say anything though, Sam adds, “Not Dean because we are not watching The Lost Boys again.”

“Or Caddyshack,” Claire pipes from the floor. “I already gave you my review, and you still made me watch it again.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something when Cas runs his fingers through Dean’s hair and says, “Not Lord of the Rings either. We watched the extended edition at least five times.” 

Dean pouts. “Oh, come on.”

“I think Dean’s taste in movies is great,” Jack offers. Dean stretches forward to high five Jack.

Between Claire and Jack, they settle on some Disney fare, and Dean knows he should probably protest just for old time’s sake, but really, who’s going to say no to Elsa from Frozen anyways? It doesn’t really matter though because Cas is carding his fingers through Dean’s hair, and it takes all of Dean’s strength to keep from falling asleep right there and then. About half way through, Dean gives up and drops his head to Cas’s lap, curling his legs into himself. 

He wakes up again during the ending credits, and more specifically, during a pillow thrown at him during the end credits. When he blinks awake, he sees Cas with his head thrown back and mouth slightly open. Dean slowly sits up and rubs the sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hands. He lightly taps Cas on the stomach.

Cas jerks awake. “What?”

“You’ll throw your neck out,” Dean grumbles. When he hears someone clear their throat, he looks up to see Claire standing over them with her arms crossed across her chest. 

“Cute,” Claire tells them. “But, please for the love of God —”

“Who doesn’t exist anymore,” Cas interjects, closing his eyes again.

Dean thinks Claire’s eyes are going to fall out of her head with the force of her eye roll. She says, “As I was saying — cute, but please don’t let me walk in on anything.”

“Scout’s honor,” Dean says, raising two fingers in salute.

~

The next time Dean wakes up, it’s in a bed in one of the bedrooms. He could hear the wind blowing outside, rattling the window panes. Next to him, he can feel the coldness emanating from the empty spot where Cas should be, but currently isn’t. Dean slips out of bed, throwing his robe on, and walking out into the quiet house. The rain drumming on the roofing, slowly escalating from quiet pings to something more drastic, is the only sound to spread through the cabin. He tip toes into the living room where Jack and Claire took a couch each. From the drawn curtains, he can see the porch light on.

Just as predicted, Cas is sitting on the porch, his legs crossed at the ankle. He looks behind him when Dean opens the screen door to step outside. The air is chilly around them. Dean pulls his jacket tightly around himself and sits down next to Cas. The covering above them is enough to keep the rain away, but Dean still looks up at it. 

He narrows his eyes and says, “Pneumonia is a thing that humans need to worry about.”

This gets a low chuckle out of Cas. He doesn’t say anything though; instead, he stares out ahead at the dark night, the clouds obscuring the stars above them. Cas’s voice is quiet, barely above the noise of the rain, when he says, “When the solar system was first formed, we used to watch the rainfalls of diamonds on Jupiter and the sulfuric acid on Venus, but it was the life sustaining water on Earth that really amazed me. The first rainfall on Earth was one of my most treasured memories.”

Cas hesitates, looking ahead. Dean waits because whatever this is about, Cas will get there eventually. Which he does because after a moment, he frowns and says, “Billie warned me that I would eventually start losing my angelic memories, and I know it’s starting already. There’s a lot of things I logically know happened, but I don’t _remember_ them. Though, I suppose, there’s a blessing in there because a lot of those early memories were pretty awful. Still, I wish I could remember how it was when Mount Everest formed or the first storm on Earth.”

When Cas looks at him, Dean can see the fear flash behind his eyes. Dean swallows hard. Everything he could say is so incredibly inadequate in the moment; losing a part of yourself is the most terrifying thing a person can experience, and Dean can’t imagine the profound unfairness at Cas losing his oldest memories.

“I’m sorry,” Dean eventually manages. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t really remember my earliest memories either.” Dean hesitates, thinking about his mother and father. Cas shifts closer so that their knees are touching. Dean continues, “I don’t remember who mom was before she died the first time around. Not really, anyways. Maybe the person I had in my head never actually existed. My dad too; I don’t remember who he was before mom died.”

“How do you deal with that?” 

Dean considers it. He doesn’t think about it, for the most part, which is probably for the best because there’s a lot of memories he doesn’t like touching. He shrugs. “I guess I focus on the here and now whenever I can. You know, stuff that I did with you, Sam, Jack, Eileen, and the rest of our family. I mean, it might not be Mount Everest, but it’s something.”

Cas smiles at him softly. “You might never believe me, Dean, but the things I’ve shared with you are far more important to me than anything else.”

Dean flushes and ducks his head. Yeah, he’ll probably never be used to how utterly earnest Cas is about, well, everything, but especially about him. He eyes Cas considerately. “You are okay, right?”

“I am,” Cas confirms. He tilts his head towards Dean. “The thing I still don’t understand about being human is how I could be so profoundly happy, but still feel sadness at certain things.”

“Contradictory emotions are, like, humanity 101,” Dean says with a wave. “Some days are better than others, but getting through each day feels like a victory in and of itself, and if you live long enough, the good days would eventually outweigh the bad ones.”

Cas hums. “I think I vastly prefer it to being an angel.”

“If we play our cards right, we got decades ahead of us,” Dean muses, more than a little giddy at the idea. The rain settles into a light drizzle and an idea flashes in his mind. He reaches out to take Cas’s hand, pulling him up. “I know I say no chick flick moments, but I’ve always wanted to try this.”

Cas blinks, letting Dean tug him off the porch into the rain. “Dean, what —”

Kissing in the rain is actually the worst experience ever; it’s blinding, it’s distracting, and the water gets everywhere, but hell, Cas isn’t complaining, so Dean isn’t complaining. It’s not a particularly sweet or urgent kind of kiss, but it’s grounding in a way that comes with the assurance that they were a constant force in each other’s lives and a promise that it’ll continue.

“Yes, that’s quite common in the movies you like to watch when you think nobody is looking,” Cas says, tipping his head to the side and blinking the water out of his eyes. “Though, I will say that we’re both probably going to get sick if we stay here any longer.”

Dean captures Cas’s lips again. “Fine, yeah, let’s get out of here.”

~

“We’re thinking about setting up a network of hunters,” Sam says over the bonfire on their last night at the cabin. “I worked with Charlie to set up an app, so we can alert hunters to cases, and whoever is in the area can take it on. It seems efficient.”

It was Jack’s idea to start a fire in the backyard. He wants to go camping, and while none of them were willing to set up a tent, this seemed like an easy enough compromise. Dean grilled dinner with Eileen’s help, and Sam and Cas started the fire. 

Dean lets out a low whistle, warming his hand on the fire. He says, “So, you’ve got it all figured out, then.”

“We’re working on rehabilitation too,” Eileen says, signing along. “With the demons in hell, we’re just working with regular monsters and most of them can be saved.”

“Some monsters like vengeful spirits are hopeless, and all we can do is salt and burn, but others like werewolves, we could probably work something out to keep them from killing,” Sam explains. “I mean, Garth managed to go years without feeding on humans, and we know plenty of vampires that drink cow blood.”

“And, you think this is going to work?”

“We have to try,” Sam insists. 

Dean shrugs. “I trust you.”

“I already downloaded the app,” Claire tells them, looking up from her phone. “It’s like uber for hunters.”

Dean can see Jack attempting to download the app on his phone, and exchanges a quiet look with Cas. They haven’t talked about a full retirement yet, but it’s in the cards. Dean knows that he probably has some civic duty to hunt, but all he wants to do is stay home, curled up with Cas and argue about what show they’re watching on any particular night. They know that they can’t stop Jack, if that’s what he’s interested in, but Dean still worries about it.

He looks away from where Jack is scrolling through local cases to nudge Claire. When she looks at him, Dean says, “So, that’s school officially benched?”

Claire’s face immediately falls; she bites her lip and says, “It’s not for me, Dean. I know Jody really hoped for it, but I’m not like Patience or Alex. At least with hunting, I feel like I’m doing something to help people.” 

“It’s your life and as long as you’re doing what makes you happy, nobody can tell you otherwise,” Dean concedes. He knows that feeling all too well, even if he didn’t particularly have that choice.

“You can use the bunker for your operation,” Cas suggests, changing the topic quickly.

Sam and Eileen dive into the logistics of this new network of hunters, and Dean finds himself drifting in and out of the conversation. It’s nice, he thinks, that their hunting world is so well connected now that they can do something like this. They have friends in every state — hell, they have friends in Heaven and Hell, too. 

~

“There’s a case about an hour away,” Jack says as soon as they cross state lines back into Kansas. Dean instinctively grips the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles whitening in front of him. Jack, for his part, doesn’t notice anything. Dean can barely make out the kid scrolling through his phone in the backseat in the rear view mirror. He continues, “It’s at a school and according to this, it might be a ghost or a revenant.”

Dean exchanges a look with Cas.

“And you want to take this case on,” Cas confirms hesitantly. Dean can’t see Jack’s face anymore, but he already knows that he’s shooting a pleading look in Cas’s direction, and Cas has never been the best at saying no to Jack. Cas sighs. “Dean?”

“I don’t know, Jack.” Dean says slowly.

“Please, Dean, I’m so bored at home,” Jack says, with only a hint of begging, but it’s enough for Dean to soften.

He looks at Cas again. It’s probably just a salt and burn, and it’s on the way back to the bunker, and it’s not like they have anywhere pressing they need to be. He has a lot of sympathy for Jack’s boredom too. He shrugs, smiling slightly. “What the hell — we’re due a family hunting trip, anyways.”

~

Almost like everything in their lives, nothing is ever as easy as it looks. The revenant wasn’t just unbelievably old — over a hundred years — and immensely powerful, but it’s also way more violent than they expected. They got there too late to save two of the teachers, and by the time they got to the third one, he’s bleeding profusely. Dean sends Jack and Cas to take the teacher to the hospital, and works to resolve the ghost’s issue. It’s something about the school being a former school for misbehaving boys, and the entire thing hits frustratingly close to home. Still, he works it out because that’s what he does.

When he drives to the hospital, he sees Cas and Jack walk out. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened as soon as he catches sight of their faces. 

“He died,” Jack mumbles, opening the back seat and slamming it behind him, not saying another word.

Cas frowns. “I wish I could have — well, you know.”

“There’s nothing we could have done,” Dean says, more to comfort himself than anything else. Cas just sighs and gets into the car.

It’s an uncomfortable car ride back to the bunker, with nobody really talking. Dean feels restless; there’s an itch for a drink that doesn’t go away. When they pass under a light, he sees Jack lean against the back window. 

“You know, Jack, we can’t save everyone,” Dean says quietly. “We did what we could, and we stopped it from taking any more victims.”

Jack doesn’t say anything. It’s Cas who tries this time. “I know you feel restless, but we’ve all been through a lot in the past few years, and hunting might not be the best idea right now.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Jack asks, more than a little desperation lacing his voice. “After Chuck, I don’t know what my purpose is.”

Cas makes a sympathetic noise. Dean shrugs. “You could try school.”

“Really?” 

He can feel both Cas and Jack stare at him, but he focuses on the road ahead, taking the exit towards Lebanon. He clears his throat. “Yeah, I mean, why not? We could ask Sam to forge you paperwork and we could probably get you enrolled next semester, if that’s what you want.”

“That might be a good idea, Jack,” Cas muses. Dean can see Cas smiling from the corner of his eyes. He says, “I’ve always been charmed by human beings' means of education.”

Dean snorts. “You’re the only one.”

Jack doesn’t say anything for a long time. It’s not until they pass the sign welcoming them into Lebanon that Jack speaks up. “What if I don’t like it?”

“Well, then you quit and we find something else that you like more,” Cas reassures him. 

“You know, Sam was going to college to become a lawyer, but eventually he realized that he really liked hunting,” Dean explains. “If you decide you don’t like school or that you would rather hunt, then you can always drop out, and we’ll get back on the road.”

“I think I’d like to try it,” Jack tells them. He’s quiet for a moment, but then laughs. “I think I found some movies on what to do in high school, and they have my favorite actor, Zac Efron.”

“Jack, I don’t think High School Musical is —” Dean starts, but Cas shoots him a reproachful look. Dean quickly amends, “I think that’s a great idea, Jack.”

“We’ll watch them with you,” Cas promises him.

Dean blinks. “We will?”

“Yes, Dean, we will,” Cas tells him, very pointedly, and Dean knows he has no chance of getting out of that one.

~

There’s a whiskey bottle stashed under the bed that Dean hasn’t touched in three weeks, which is the longest bout of sobriety he’s had in at least two decades. He manages to dodge Cas and Jack when they get back to the bunker to sneak into the room. He pulls it out to eye the golden brown liquid. _You shouldn’t_ , he thinks. The worst part is that he doesn’t want to; he never wants to, but his fingers twitch around it. The hunt isn’t that far out of routine, but it still took enough out of him that he takes a swig without thinking. Then he takes another, and another.

It’s not until he hears footsteps walking into the room that he stops. Cas is leaning against the door frame, a frown on his face. Dean drops his head in shame. Cas doesn’t say anything, and instead walks over to the bed, and takes the bottle out of Dean’s hand. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean mumbles, reaching out to grab Cas’s wrist, pulling him closer. Cas settles between Dean’s legs and loops an arm around his shoulder, threading a hand through the hair at the back of Dean’s neck. Dean drops his head against Cas’s chest. He says, “I can’t do this, Cas.”

“Yes, you can,” Cas tells him firmly. “You’ve fought so much over the years, and this is just another thing that we need to get through.”

The room feels like it’s spinning underneath him, but when Cas runs a hand through his hair, Dean starts to steady himself. He lifts his head away from Cas’s chest to look up at him. Cas’s face immediately softens, and he reaches a hand out to cup Dean’s face; Dean leans into the touch and feels the warmth radiate off Cas. He traces his thumb along the band of Cas’s pajama bottoms, before dipping under the fabric. Cas’s breath hitches above him.

Cas kisses him, first softly, and then properly, and Dean sighs into it. He shifts, pulling Cas closer still so that he’s half on top of Dean. He touches his tongue to Cas’s bottom lip and Cas hums into it, and opens up to let him in. Dean rolls back onto the bed and pulls Cas on top of him. Cas holds his face as he nudges at his jaw. Dean tilts his head, a soft noise breaking out of his throat at the feel of Cas pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his neck.

“Thank you,” Dean tells him when he manages to catch his breath.

Cas pulls away, tilts his head to the side, and raises a brow. “For what?”

“Everything — just, everything,” Dean kisses him again, smoothing a hand under his shirt.

~

When Dean wakes up, he realizes that the whiskey bottle is gone. He also realizes the one he keeps hidden in his wardrobe is gone as well. It’s a miracle that he’s gone this long without realizing how out of his depth he is because the signs are all around him. A glance at his phone tells him that it’s a quarter after ten. He can smell the coffee as he walks down the hall towards the kitchen. As always, Cas is sitting at the table, newspaper open in front of him. Today, though, he also has his laptop.

“Morning,” Dean says, voice hoarse from sleep. He leans down to kiss the top of Cas’s head. 

Cas doesn’t look up from his newspaper. “Good morning, Dean.”

There’s badly made pancakes that are totally Jack’s doing. He pulls a cup off the shelf and pours himself coffee. He eyes the papers in front of Cas carefully. “What do you have there?”

Cas looks up at him and bites his bottom lip. Quietly, he says, “Something for you.”

Dean drops down across from him at the table. He shoots his most confident grin at Cas and says, “I love presents.”

Cas doesn’t say anything for a moment; instead, he turns his laptop towards Dean, biting his lip and looking away. On the screen is a foreclosed house right outside the town center. From the looks of the listing, it’s three bedrooms with one bathroom and more than enough room to grow anything and everything they could ever want. Dean remembers Claire telling him to look at a house because _Cas will like that_. Except, it seems that Cas beat him to it.

“A house.”

“A house,” Cas says, calmly, but Dean can tell the nerves right underneath the calmness. He scratches the back of his neck and says, “It might be best if we moved out of the bunker, and allow Sam and Eileen to use it for whatever they’re trying to do.”

Dean can’t keep the smile off his face when he says, “That’s the only reason, right?”

“Of course,” Cas tells him, voice completely blank, but Dean sees the corners of his mouth quirk up into a small smile. He’s quiet for a moment, his face settling into something serious. “As good as the bunker has been for us, it might be time for us to put some space between us and —” He hesitates, tilting his head towards the ceiling.

“And everything,” Dean finishes for him because _yeah_ , that. 

He loves the bunker, he does. It’s been the closest to a home he’s ever had, but he would be lying if it’s not cold and clinical sometimes. Every corner he turns, there’s a reminder of the things they’ve all gone through. They’ve all nearly died in the bunker, nearly killed each other in the bunker, and it’s just time to move on, time to build something somewhere else.

~

The house has a leaky roof, a bathroom that doesn’t function in any capacity, and apparently a ghost. Of the three, the leaky roof is what bothers Cas the most. He questions Patricia, the real estate agent listing the house, over and and over about mold that could grow in the woodwork and how much the water damage would cost, and _do you think we can knock it off our offer?_ Dean doesn’t know why it matters because they’ll probably pay for all of the repairs they can’t handle themselves with Charlie’s magic credit card, but Cas seems to be enjoying tormenting the poor real estate agent, so Dean leaves him to it.

Jack has the EMF meter out as soon as they’re out of Patricia’s sight. He strolls around the kitchen, wrinkling his nose as it beeps, and Dean knows that he should probably pay more attention to the ghost inhabiting the house, but he’s more interested in the kitchen cabinets. They’re a boring brown and definitely in need of a paint job, but they’ll do the job. The refrigerator is functioning, even if it’s not the industrial one that the bunker has; there’s a dishwasher, ample counter space, and a functioning oven. The tiles on the floor are cracked, but it’s nothing that they can’t fix. 

When Patricia and Cas walk into the kitchen, Jack immediately tucks the EMF meter away and smiles his trademark smile and says, “Patricia, what can you tell us about the ghost haunting the house?”

Patricia gives him a startled look. “I’m sorry — it’s just — are you saying you believe the local legend?”

“Yes,” Jack says, without missing a beat. Dean looks at Cas and sees Cas struggling to keep a straight face as Patricia considers Jack. Without waiting for an answer, Jack continues, “You said that the last owners left because of the ghost, and before that, there was a string of strange deaths?” Patricia opens her mouth to say something, but closes it because Jack keeps going. “Now, I know there’s no sulfur smell, but are there cold spots in the house?”

“Well, I mean half the windows are broken, so I’m sure there’s a draft,” Patricia starts. She looks between them and Dean knows that she’s silently debating just how insane they are. When they don’t say anything, she stutters, “Um — well, the locals think that the ghost of Clive McAllister haunts the house.”

Cas narrows his eyes. “Clive McAllister?”

“He used to live here in the 1940s,” Patricia explains. “He was apparently a very mean old man. He killed his second wife in a drunken rage and then killed himself.”

“That’ll do it,” Dean says, nodding somberly. Patricia just looks confused. “So, Patricia, do you know where Clive’s buried?”

Patricia’s eyes widen comically. “I don’t — who are you people?” 

“Well —” Jack starts.

“We’re people who want to talk about buying the house,” Cas says, pointedly. Dean snickers, but immediately shuts up when Cas gives him a look. Keeping his voice level and entirely too professional for an ex-Angel with very few people skills, he says, “Ms. Blake, if you could show me the garden while my husband and son find this ghost, that would be great.”

“The ghost isn’t _real_ ,” Patricia exasperates as Cas guides her out of the room.

Dean blinks, feeling his throat constrict. _Husband._

“Did you and Castiel get married?” Jack asks as soon as they’re out of earshot. He widens his eyes and looks at Dean with genuine hurt. “Was I not invited?”

“We’re not — no, we didn’t,” Dean manages to choke out through the whirlwind of emotions racing through him at light speed. Jack squints at him in confusion and Dean feels his entire face warm. “He probably thought it was an easier way to explain our family than to get into it.”

“Oh,” Jack says slowly. He’s still staring at Dean, and it’s disconcerting in a way that’s so reminiscent of Cas. After a moment, Jack shrugs. “Well, you should get married.”

“We — we should — you know, figure out where McAllister is buried,” Dean stammers; his body feels uncharacteristically hot and bothered. Jack seems to take the distraction at face value though because he pulls the EMF meter out again. Dean lets out a sigh of relief. 

With how casual Cas is acting, Dean thinks that he doesn’t realize just how shocked Dean actually is. He throws all his brain power into finding Clive McAllister’s grave just to keep the loop of _husband, husband, husband_ running through his head on a leash. Finding the grave turns out to be easy; he’s buried in the cemetery at the end of the road, with a clearly marked grave. They wait until sundown to start digging the grave, and Dean drops his lighter and sets the remains on fire. They circle back to the house to confirm that there’s no EMF, and when it’s all clear, they walk outside.

“I can’t believe this is ours now,” Dean muses, staring up at the house. It’s an ugly little thing, but it’s their ugly little thing. 

“Well, not yet,” Cas says from next to him. “We still need to close and we won’t get the keys for another month. There’s also the fact that it requires a lot of repairs before it’s suitable for us to live in and —”

“Cas, sweetheart, enjoy the moment,” Dean says, with an exasperated sigh. 

~

Logically, Dean knows that it’s a throwaway line, and Cas doesn’t actually care about getting married; hell, they probably can’t get married in any legal capacity anyways, but it doesn’t stop Dean from thinking about it really fucking hard. He doesn’t even know where to start; he could propose and do the whole nine yards with a pawned ring and everything or he could just wait until Cas brings it up again. The problem is that Cas doesn’t bring it up again. He carries on with his life like nothing happened, and Dean is left googling _how do you propose to someone_ like an idiot. He debates calling Sam about it, but decides that his little brother getting involved in his personal crisis is the last thing he wants to do, so he just waits. He just doesn’t know what he’s waiting for.

“We should go to the school,” Cas says, walking into the room. Dean quickly closes his laptop where he’sdefinitely not searching for rings. He practically flings himself out of his chair in order to get his laptop as far away from himself as possible. Cas raises a brow. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great,” Dean chokes out, forcing a smile. 

“I’m here if you want to talk about whatever you’re being strange about,” Cas says, rolling his eyes, but sounding genuine nonetheless. Dean just nods, even if he has no intention of not being weird about this. Cas doesn’t seem to want an answer though because he just continues, “Sam sent over all the paperwork we need to get Jack into school, and it’s still early enough in the year that we might be able to get him enrolled.”

“Right, yeah, let’s go,” Dean agrees immediately. 

Cas tilts his head and narrows his eyes to study Dean. He doesn’t get a chance to push because Jack walks into the room wearing a backpack and looking every bit a high schooler. If Dean gets a little misty at the sight, well, nobody has to know.

Lebanon Central High School has sixteen teachers and approximately hundred and fifty students. It also has exactly one exhausted principal. Cynthia Kearny takes one look at them, and Dean immediately knows that she’s some mix between overworked and underpaid, and she’s in no mood to argue with two middle aged men about student enrollment. She glances over Jack’s paperwork, and the three of them wait in silence. 

Eventually, she pulls out two stacks of papers and says, “These are the forms that need to be filled out. Jack can start classes on October 1st, and I will have Jack’s teachers to send over the month’s worth of classwork he missed, and it’ll be expected that he finishes it all before he starts.”

“Of course,” Cas agrees politely.

She hands them everything they need. As they walk back to the car, Dean feels dizzy staring down at the packets of sine and cosine curves, acid and base titrations, and the essay prompts on _1984_. Dean eyes Jack. “Dude, how are we gonna finish all this?”

“Don’t worry, I already obtained all the math taught in the American school system,” Jack explains, waving to a teacher that passes by. “I couldn’t absorb history or literature because my powers aren’t as strong as they were.” 

Dean blinks. “You downloaded _math_?”

“Jack still has his grace,” Cas explains. “It’s similar to how Metatron dumped pop culture references into my brain, though those are fading now. Although, I can’t say that I mind too much considering Metatron’s taste.”

“Maybe now, you’ll stop spoiling the endings of movies,” Dean mutters, trying to rack his mind for tenth grade chemistry. When he looks up, Cas is glaring at him. He huffs out a breath and walks around the car. Dean groans. “Cas, come on. I love it when you spoil the endings of movies.”

Cas just gets into the car. Dean glances at Jack, who shrugs and says, “I think you upset him.”

“Alright, get in the car,” Dean says, handing all the papers over to Jack. 

Later that night, when Sam and Eileen come over for dinner and movie night, Cas slumps against him. Halfway through Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Cas leans over and whispers, “The answer is forty-two.”

“Is that — oh, come on,” Dean whines, but he’s quickly distracted when Cas kisses the dip under his ear. He glances over at Cas, who tips his head to the side and gives him a mischievous look. Dean quickly looks at Sam, Eileen, and Jack and realizes that they’re all distracted. He whispers, “Let’s get out of here.”

They’re halfway out the room, hand in hand, when Sam groans, “Seriously?”

“We have needs, Sam,” Dean says, flipping him off. 

~

“When’s my birthday?”

Dean looks up from Jack’s emergency contact form to where Jack is filling out another form. He mentally calculates a year that’s acceptable for a high school sophmore and says, “May 18, 2005.” 

It’s actually 2017, and at some point, it was the worst day in Dean’s life. Nowadays, it’s just Jack’s birthday. Jack writes the date down and then looks up at Dean. He asks, “When’s your birthday?”

“January 24th,” Dean says automatically. 

“So, you’re an aquarius,” Jack muses. Dean has no idea what that means. Jack eyes him considerately. “Does Cas have a birthday?”

Dean shrugs. “Probably not because he was born before Earth was even an idea.”

“We should give Cas a birthday,” Jack tells him with all the seriousness in the world. 

Dean nods, matching Jack in his sincerity. “Sure, why not?”

“It has to be astrologically compatible with yours,” Jack points out. Dean vaguely considers taking Jack’s laptop away from him. He knows he looks confused because Jack just sighs. “Dean, it’s a _science.”_

“No,” Dean says, pulling out the chemistry packet and handing it over to Jack. “Your chemistry homework is a science.”

Jack pouts, but he pulls out his pencil and starts working on it immediately. Dean is about to turn back to the parent or guardian forms when he hears the bunker door open and close. Cas strolls into the room, dressed in a pair of jeans and one of Dean’s old band t-shirts, and grins at them.

“I got a job,” Cas says, looking incredibly proud of himself.

“Did you now?” Dean asks, completely unable to keep his own pride at bay. 

Cas drops down on the chair next to Dean and pulls one of the forms, wordlessly filling it out. He hums. “I went down to the farmers’ market to sell some of the produce, especially since we’re moving into the house. Maria asked if I would like an opportunity to earn more money, so I said yes. I’m Spinelli Farm’s new farm hand.”

They don’t actually _need_ to work, but they both feel gross about that idea. Besides, Dean knows that Cas has been itching to do something more. He reaches over and takes Cas’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together. He squeezes lightly and says, “You’ll be great.”

The smile that Cas gives him is so unreservedly fond that Dean feels his heart flutter. He should be used to it by now, but he’s really not, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be used to being in love and being loved. _I’m gonna marry this man_ , Dean realizes in a moment of absolute clarity. He makes a mental note to find a ring and plan the perfect, perfect, _perfect_ proposal.

“What have you been up to?” Cas asks, all casual, bringing Dean out of his thoughts.

Jack grins. “We were trying to come up with a birthday for you.”

“Jimmy Novak’s birthday is the 10th of July,” Cas suggests, not bothering to question why they’re looking for a birthday for him. 

Jack wrinkles his nose. “No, that won’t do. Cancers aren’t very compatible with Aquariuses.”

This gets Cas’s attention. He looks up from the form he’s filling to give Dean a look. Dean shrugs. “The kid discovered astrology.”

“Jack, you do know that —” Cas starts, but then Jack looks up at him with big, blue eyes and Dean knows that Jack won. “Of course, Jack. When should my birthday be?”

Jack’s face looks like it’s going to split with the force of his smile. “Well, you should be a Gemini which means your birthday should be between May 21st and June 20th.”

Dean thinks that Cas doesn’t get nearly enough credit for being the best fucking father in the universe because the level of concentration that spreads across his face should be criminal. He can literally see Cas considering every single day. Patiently, Cas says, “My birthday should be June 18th.”

Jack claps his hands together. “Now, you guys are compatible.”

Dean snorts. “Hey, did you hear that, Cas? We’re compatible.”

“I should hope so, considering we’re going to be spending the rest of our lives together,” Cas says, completely seriously, turning back to the forms. Dean immediately has to remind himself to breathe.

Yeah, Dean is _definitely_ going to propose.

~

They make a silent decision to not tell Sam about the house until it’s ready. Dean doesn’t know why or how they came to that decision, but he likes to surprise people, most of all his kid brother. As October gives way to November, the house starts coming together bit by bit. They do the roof first, stripping the curling shingles and pulling out the rotting wood underneath. Cas does most of the work because, of course, he does, but Dean does his part too — half of that involves admiring the sweat running down Cas’s back and the other half involves staying out of the way as Cas figures it out. 

Cas is really handy, which is surprising because Cas is pretty terrible at anything involving actual house work. The number of times Dean walked into the kitchen to find terribly washed dishes and even more terribly categorized spices is enough to drive him insane. That’s also saying nothing of the clothes on the bathroom floor and the coffee mugs on the side table; but, when it comes to fixing a roof or replacing a toilet, there’s nobody better than Cas.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” Dean asks, looking down at where Cas has finished installing the new toilet in their bathroom. The bathroom itself is mostly finished; they finished painting the walls a pale blue, the shower has a new shower head, and Dean managed to put together a nice enough counter. 

“Google,” Cas says, standing up and eyeing the toilet proudly. Cas flushes it once and tilts his head to shoot a crooked grin in Dean’s direction. “It’s not, as you would say, rocket science.”

“Quit showing off,” Dean grumbles.

Cas smirks and Dean thinks that it’s _on_. The thing that Dean learns very quickly is that Cas is insufferably competitive sometimes; it’s never about anything important, but for every great thing Dean does around the house, Cas has to one up him. Naturally, Dean can’t let that slide, so he’ll do something else. It actually works out well because the house needs a lot of work, and between the two of them egging each other on, most of the repairs are done. Dean quickly catalogues what’s left and decides that he’ll build a bookshelf for their bedroom for all of Cas’s terrible murder mystery novels.

Right then, Jack runs past them and Dean instinctively reaches out to grab the back of Jack’s shirt to stop him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Jack raises a hand up in greeting and says, “My friends from school want to meet at the diner.”

That’s the other thing — Jack takes to school like a fish to water. When he came home after his first day, he told them that he’s joining the school choir, which naturally means that Dean and Cas have to go to every one of his rehearsals. The other parents give Cas funny looks because he insists on recording everything that Jack does, and Dean knows how it looks. Jack, for all intents and purposes, is a teenager, but he’s also a toddler and sue them for wanting to do the normal thing and experience everything and record everything. When Dean brought up sports, Jack couldn’t have looked more disinterested, and Dean drops it. He’s never been one for sports, either.

Jack also, apparently, has friends. Dean looks at Cas who shrugs. Dean sighs. “Be back before ten.”

“Will do,” Jack says, waving them off.

Cas waits until the front door shuts behind Jack before he says, “We are not following him.”

“But —” 

Cas gives him a look. “You would hate it if your father followed you around.”

“My dad was a dick,” Dean points out, finding that he doesn’t feel all that guilty describing his father in those terms anymore. Still, yeah, Jack might be four, but Dean can’t exactly follow him around like an overprotective father. He wrinkles his nose and gives Cas a once over. “Well, get cleaned up then. I’ll get dinner going.”

It’s the first time he’s cooking in the new kitchen. The cabinets are freshly painted; they’re a bit blotchy and unprofessional, but they did it themselves, and it looks pretty damn fantastic if Dean says so himself. He’s stirring the soup, sprinkling the salt and pepper in, when he sees Cas walk in, hair still wet from his shower. With bare feet quiet on the kitchen floor, he steps up behind Dean, hands dropping easily around Dean’s hips, and hooks his chin over Dean’s shoulders.

Dean leans back. “Sam’s gonna love this.”

“He will,” Cas says easily. “He’ll probably criticize our decorating.”

Dean chuckles, low and easy. “What does the kid know? He has red and gold sheets at his apartment.”

“I thought they looked nice,” Cas mutters.

“And that’s why I’m picking our sheets out.”

“We’ll see,” Cas says, and there’s a vague challenge in there somewhere, and Dean knows that they’re going to be arguing in the bedroom aisle of a Target very, very soon. 

~

“Dean, Cas, I have an emergency.”

It takes approximately half a second between Sam’s voice ringing out in the bunker and Dean, Cas, and Jack scrambling around to grab their weapons of choice. When Sam makes it down the stairs into the war room, he knits his brows together and frowns for a moment before realization dawns on him. “Not that kind of emergency.”

Dean slumps down back on to his chair as Jack goes back to his homework. Cas returns to the book he’s reading, eyeing Sam. “Well?”

“I need you guys to help me pick out a ring for Eileen,” Sam says as his face breaks out into a grin. “I’m thinking about proposing.”

“Oh for fucks sake,” Dean groans, as soon as Sam’s words register, and well, that’s not exactly what he means to say because Sam stares at him in confusion. Hell, everyone stares at him in confusion. Dean quickly amends, “No — I’m really happy for you, dude. Like, so happy. Eileen is awesome — the best, but for fucks sake, how did you manage to upstage our announcement?”

“Your announcement —”Sam starts, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. He looks between Dean and Cas before something dawns on him. Before Dean can stop him, Sam gushes, “Shit, wait — are you two engaged? I didn’t mean — oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to step on your toes.”

“Sam, relax. We aren’t getting married,” Cas cuts him off. Dean freezes. Well, shit, that throws his perfect, perfect, _perfect_ proposal out the window. Cas continues, “Not yet, anyways.”

Dean blinks. Right, okay. Dean turns to Sam and says, “Yeah, we just bought a house.”

“You bought a _house_?” Sam practically squeaks. He narrows his eyes. “When?”

Dean scratches the back of his neck and looks away from his brother. “Uh, about two months ago?”

It’s pretty funny how Sam’s face tries to contort in anger at Dean not telling him, except it doesn’t actually do that because he’s so happy. He clears his throat. “I am definitely going to kill you guys for not telling me sooner, but wow, that’s amazing.”

He holds his arms out, and they have no choice, but to let him hug them. It’s secretly very, very nice. When they pull away, Dean says, “Well, lets see the rings then.”

Dean doesn’t actually know what one looks for in the prefect ring. He eyes Cas carefully, trying to gauge his reaction, but all Cas does is tilt his head to the side and squint at the pictures of the two rings on Sam’s phone.

“I like the first one,” Cas says firmly, like it’s a carefully researched decision.

Dean eyes both of them again. “Actually, I don’t know. Think I prefer the second.”

They both turn around to look at Jack because he’s always the one to break the tie. Jack looks up from his homework and says, “The second one.”

Dean grins smugly. “Ha.”

“He always takes your side,” Cas pouts. Jack looks at him innocently and Cas just shakes his head fondly. To Sam, he says, “Well, guess our consensus is the second one.”

Nerves flicker over Sam’s face suddenly. “Right, guess I’m doing this, then.”

“Good luck,” Dean says, clapping him on the back. “You’ll be great. She’s insane if she agrees, obviously, but you’ll be great.”

“We’ve been talking about marriage a lot lately. Maybe I should get married too,” Jack muses, not looking up from where he’s finishing up a math problem.

“You’re _four_ ,” Dean says at the same time that Cas says, “Jack, your time will come, and even if it doesn’t, that’s okay too.”

Later, they drive to the house together and Dean gives Sam the grand tour. As expected, Sam criticizes all their design choices, but particularly Dean’s, which is totally unfair. When he notices the pointed lack of alcohol in the kitchen, he flashes a proud smile in Dean’s direction and Dean has to duck his head in embarrassment, but Sam keeps giving him knowing looks. 

It’s not until after dinner that Sam pulls Dean aside. They’re on the back patio; Sam doesn’t say anything for a long time, and Dean feels twitchy. If he was still drinking, this is the part where he would focus on his drink and ignore Sam’s sideways glances that he thinks are sneaky, but are painfully obvious.

“Spit it out,” Dean tells him when he eventually can’t take it anymore.

Sam just hums, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a smile. He tries for subtlety, but that lasts about five seconds before he’s fully grinning. “You should see yourself from the outside, man.”

Dean flushes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re just happy,” Sam says with a shrug. His eyes are twinkling. “So, talk. You’re thinking about popping the question.”

“What makes you say that?” Dean asks, but Sam just rolls his eyes. Right, brothers. Can’t really lie to them even if Dean spent a lifetime doing just that. Dean tries to keep his voice level when he says, “He called me his husband, and I know it was just the easiest thing to say to our real estate agent, but I can’t stop thinking about it, and well — it would be nice.”

Sam arches his brow. “So, ask him.”

“It has to be perfect,” Dean exasperates. Sam lets out a very undignified snort. Dean glares. “I mean, it’s what he deserves, right? I’ve been a pretty big disappointment for years.”

Sam actually laughs at that, the bastard. It’s not until he manages to control it to a snicker that he says, “Dude, you could go in there right now in your pajamas and give Cas one of those plastic toy rings from cereal boxes and ask him to marry you, and he'll say yes in a heartbeat.”

“I’m sure it’s the same with Eileen, but you’re still trying to impress her,” Dean shoots back.

“No, it’s really not the same with Eileen,” Sam says, putting his trademark tone that he only pulls out when Dean has his head up his ass. Dean is about to protest when Sam continues, “Look, I love Eileen and I know she loves me, but you and Cas have gone through so much that’s so far beyond anything we’ve been through that it’s not exactly comparable. I mean, what’s a fancy engagement when he literally branded you when he pulled you out of hell?”

Dean instinctively touches his left shoulder, even though the hand print is long gone. He exhales sharply. “Okay, yeah. So, I just gotta — you know, do it.”

“Don’t overthink it,” Sam says firmly, giving Dean a look. Then, he shoots an absolute shit eating grin at Dean. “We could have a joint wedding.”

“Absolutely not.” Dean shudders at the thought. “That’s just a recipe for disaster.”

Sam laughs.

When Cas falls asleep that night, Dean writes a speech.

~

“I don’t know why we couldn’t have slept in a little longer,” Dean grumbles as he pushes the cart through the local grocery store. It’s eight in the morning, which is entirely too early to be functional, let alone doing anything productive.

Cas carefully eyes two brands of oatmeal, even though they always get the same one, and Cas is the only one who ever eats it, unless Sam visits. “Because, Dean, I have work and I would like to get this done.”

They go grocery shopping once a week together. It originally started because the one time he sent Cas to do it on his own, he came back with too much of everything, mostly because he didn’t know how to choose between all the options available. When Dean decided to go instead, Cas wanted to accompany him. It was under the guise of learning about the basics, but Dean knows that Cas enjoys it. He enjoys it too, if he’s being honest, even when they’re doing it at the ass crack of dawn, or whatever. 

Dean drops the all purpose flour into the cart next to the butter. He eyes the shelf for the garlic croutons, but a very specific one. There’s one on the far shelf, and Cas spots the woman reaching for it and immediately moves. Normally, Dean doesn’t give a shit about what they get, and more often than not, they’ll save money buying store brand, but he’ll fight tooth and nail for Mrs. Cubbinson’s. He holds his breath, watching as Cas moves quickly. It’s almost like he has his grace still with the speed he moves, grabbing it off the shelf before the woman can reach it. Cas bows his head apologetically when the woman glares at him, but as soon as she walks away, he turns to Dean and grins.

“Marry me,” Dean blurts out as soon as Cas drops the croutons into the cart.

“Okay.”

Dean blinks twice, his brain finally catching up with his mouth. He splutters, “No, wait — no, that’s not what I meant to say.”

Cas tilts his head to the side and squints up at him. “So, you don’t want to marry me?”

“No, I do — of course, I do,” Dean says, his voice cracking slightly. He eyes the aisle to make sure nobody is around to catch the conversation. “I just — fuck, Cas. I had a speech planned for when I finally asked you.”

Cas is still staring at him, his eyes dancing with amusement. He bites his lower lip and smiles. “So, say it.”

“We’re in a grocery store, Cas,” Dean says, swallowing hard, and looking away. “It’s not exactly the best place for that.”

Cas reaches a hand out to touch his elbow. “I understand, Dean. If you want to wait until you find the right moment to propose, I don’t mind waiting along with you.”

With that, Cas steps to the side and takes the cart out of Dean’s hands, pushing it towards the pasta. Dean instantly thinks about Sam telling him to not complicate it, and this is pretty ridiculous, all things considered. It’s Cas; they’ve been through so much that there’s probably no gesture in the world that could do that justice, and all that matters is that they’re together. Dean catches sight of David Jenkins, the owner of Lebanon Food Mart, reading a newspaper. There’s nobody else in the shop. _Fuck it,_ Dean thinks and drops to one knee.

“Hey, Cas.”

Cas turns, and immediately drops his hand from the cart. His eyes widen and his mouth parts open. “Dean, you don’t have to.”

“No, I want to,” Dean says. Cas takes several steps forward so that he’s looking down at Dean. When Dean meets Cas’s eyes, he feels like the dam is opening inside him and all his emotions are ready to burst out. He exhales sharply. “Look, I know I haven’t always been the best to you —”

“That’s not true,” Cas cuts in. He looks down at Dean, his face impossibly soft. “Don’t be so self-deprecating.”

“Hear me out,” Dean says, feeling more than a little hysterical. Dean feels his face warming, but he pushes on. “I know I haven’t always been the greatest, but you always make me want to be the best version of myself, and if you give me the chance, I would really like to spend the rest of my life with you. Cas — _Castiel_ , will you marry me?”

Cas’s voice quivers slightly when he says, “Of course, I’ll marry you, Dean.”

Dean stands up, and Cas kisses him immediately, reaching up to cradle both cheeks. Dean makes a weak sound in the back of his throat and kisses back, eyes fluttering shut as he curls closer. When they break apart, Dean leans forward to press his forehead against Cas’s. He murmurs, “I love you.” The words still feel new, like no matter how many times he says it, it still feels like the first time. 

“I love you too,” Cas says, closing his eyes, and loops his arms around Dean’s neck.

“Uh, guys. As proud as I am that my store is the chosen venue of the town weirdos’ engagement, don’t y’all want some privacy?”

Dean steps back from Cas to eye David Jenkins, who crosses his arms in front of him, and eyes them warily. Dean points a finger at him. “Just for that, Dave, you’re not getting an invitation.”

“However will I survive?” David mutters, moving to ring them up.

~

Considering the state of their lives at any given moment and the fact that they didn’t actually want a traditional wedding, Dean should be glad that the wedding isn’t as chaotic as it could have been. Nobody dies, which is nice, and as far as serious injuries are considered, the sleeve of Sam’s suit catching on fire isn’t the worst. If Dean really thinks about it, weddings don’t usually go wrong when the people involved in them actually want to be there. 

Cas is mostly determined to not cry, but Dean doesn’t even try. He cries when he first sees Cas on his wedding day; he cries as he makes his vows. When Cas turns to Dean with red-rimmed eyes in pure, unadulterated happiness, it hits Dean right then and there that they’re _here_. They’re alive, standing in front of each other with their little makeshift family formed over the years, though many of them aren’t with them anymore.

Cas clears his throat and Dean can feel his own close up. Cas says, “You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know, Dean. Ever since we met and ever since I pulled you out of Hell, knowing you has been the best part of my life. You changed me, Dean. You’re the love of my very long life, and I cannot wait to spend eternity with you.”

Dean is shaking, his own emotions about to burst out of him and Cas has to place a gentle hand on his shoulder to bring him back to his senses. Dean croaks, “Fuck you. Now I’m crying.”

“Dean, you’ve been crying,” Cas deadpans, but Dean can see that his eyes are a misty too, so he’s not the only soft one here.

“Shut up,” Dean mutters. He turns to Sam and says, “Can I kiss him already?”

“Well, I do need to do my part,” Sam says, his voice trembling as well. His eyes are bright and red, and Dean knows he’s about two seconds away from choking out ugly tears in a way that only he can manage. “Dean, do you take Castiel to be your lawfully wedded husband—”

“Actually, I don’t think our marriage holds up in any legality considering I don’t exist and Dean is legally dead in all fifty states,” Cas says, cutting Sam off.

Sam lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Dean, do you take Castiel to be your non-lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you apart?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure we’re gonna be married in heaven too, so I’m not exactly sure how death can do us apart,” Dean muses, mostly because Sam’s face is turning a bright shade of red and he’s about to throw the book at someone — probably him, if he’s being honest. When he sees Sam’s eyes twitching, he says, “I do.” 

Cas beams next to him.

Sam nods and turns to Cas. “Do you, Castiel, take Dean Winchester to be your non-lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

“I do,” Cas says immediately, the tips of his ears turning pink.

Cas’s small, shy smile is the last thing Dean sees before he pulls Cas close to him to kiss him; he feels like the axis of his world is finally angling itself correctly. He can hear the cheers around the hall, but all he notices in that moment is Cas.

~

Dean is six months sober, which is six months longer than he ever thought he would be. The reception, hastily thrown together in their backyard, has a makeshift bar that Eileen is at, but when he walks up to it, she just hands him cranberry juice. From his corner, he watches Cas dance with Claire, and he catches Cas wincing as Claire steps on his foot. Donna and Jody are dancing with each other as well, and Donna waves at Dean when she catches him looking. Dean smiles, and waves back. There’s Jack doing a puppet show for Garth’s kids, and Rowena and Charlie in some form of argument. Dean feels so utterly warm at everything. He has a family. It’s a weird, completely dysfunctional, family, but it’s his. 

Still, there’s people that didn’t make it. He misses Bobby — his Bobby — like hell. He misses his Charlie, too. She would have been his best man without doubt. There’s Ellen, Jo, and Ash. There’s Kevin — God, he misses Kevin. Crowley would have made the wedding infinitely more chaotic, but sometimes Dean misses him too. The journey to this exact moment was so long, but it’s finally all his. Even through the grief that’ll never really go away, he’s just so _happy_.

“Hey.”

Dean is brought out of his thoughts by Cas sliding up to him. “Hey.”

“You’re thinking about something,” Cas tells him casually, stepping in front of him.

Dean hums, lazily dropping his hands to Cas’s waist, dipping inside his suit jacket. “Just thinking about how long it took us to get here.”

“But, we’re here,” Cas says softly.

Dean kisses the top of his head. “Finally.”

~

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, yes, I know that Libras and Sagittarius are also compatible with Aquarius, but also I don't know anything about astrology and I'm not planning on learning anything about it either! 
> 
> Thank you all for reading this :)


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